


Oh Oh Pretty Woman?

by ChunkMonk



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Armie out looking to pick up a little fun for the night, M/M, Oh oh pretty woman, but maybe later lol, if you know what i mean, might be a one shot might be more idk yet, no smut yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-01 13:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16765852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChunkMonk/pseuds/ChunkMonk
Summary: Armie is feeling frustrated and needs a release. He goes to the Sunset  Strip looking to pick up a little...fun for the night. No big deal right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a convo I had with my girl Chanel

Armie’s friend Nick had been the one to tell him all the best places in the city to visit should he ever need it. He considered it a bro’s helping bro’s sort of thing. Armie didn’t needed the info though, and he’d stored it away, filed among other useless info he was sure to forget sooner or later. He was busy as hell and that was the last thing he had time to think about. 

But today has been a rough day; board members were breathing down his neck, the Tokyo merger was in danger of collapsing, and he needs to breathe. He needs to feel alive.

He needs to get laid.

So Armie leaves out of the office early—easy to do when you own the place—having every intention of just driving around for a while, windows down, letting the wind drown out the buzzing in his head, until the tiny voice in the back of his mind screams that maybe he should take care of his other head too. The one a little further south. It has been far too long. There are some exes and casual hookups he knew he could call, the type of girls (and guys) that are always game for a late night “U up?” text and never asked for anything more, but he couldn’t bring himself to message any of them.

He needs something different. Something new. His skin practically itches with it.

Sure he could hit up a bar or a club, pony up for a round of drinks, play the charmer he knew he could be and bring someone home for the night, but he is in no mood for any of it. He doesn’t want to have to turn on the charm, play games, put in the effort. He is utterly drained and for once in his life, the easy road seems like the best option. 

The thought of paying for sex is both appealing for its simplicity and revolting for its, well, he can count the ways, and he’s been at war with himself about it ever since Nick brought it up to him weeks ago, telling him he was “tense” and knew exactly what he needed to do. Armie had laughed it off at the time, but now it is the only thing he can think about, and he hates the fact that even though he thinks picking up a prostitute is bottom of the barrel behavior, he is 99% sure he is gonna do it anyways. 

He could contact an agency, there are several around that specialize in such things, especially ones that cater to a clientele like him—wealthy, requiring utmost discretion—that could send someone to his place faster than he can snap his fingers, but this is last minute and the less people involved in this, the less that know what he is doing, the better. 

After driving around for a good hour, blasting the “pump up” mix from his iPod through his car speakers(the one he reserves for sparring sessions with his trainer) in order to get up the courage, he finally drives over to the Sunset strip, and his car is idling at the curb outside a string of questionable looking bars, including one with an exterior painted all black with the name “The Spot” over the door. 

Armie isn’t sure what he’s looking for, and he drums his fingers nervously on the steering wheel, eyes scanning the sidewalk, until he sees him and he just knows. Leaning against the brick wall of “The Spot”, dark wavy hair, pale skin, tight jeans and a tight white henley that’s molded to his delicate frame. He can’t see the boys face, as he’s staring down at his phone, sunglasses on, but he’s pure twink, exactly who Armie goes for when he does decide to pursue men, and he feels his cock stir in his slacks. It really has been far too long and this boy is fucking gorgeous. 

He’s not sure how to proceed though, and he scans the area to try and make sure he’s at the place Nick told him about, when he sees another guy just a bit further up the street pop off from where he’d too been leaning against the facade of a club and stroll up to a waiting car. Armie watches the guy place his hands on the open window and lean in suggestively, and then talk for a few minutes before glancing around and hopping in to the waiting vehicle. 

Yeah, this is the place alright. Fuck he is gonna do this, isn’t he? 

Slowly easing his foot off the break he lets his car roll a little bit forward until he’s directly in front of the boy. With trembling hands he cuts his radio off, throws his car into park, rolls the window down and leans forward. 

Right as the boy looks up and straight at him. His lips are rosy and his bone structure is like carved marble.

Fuuuuuck.

“Hey.” Armie says, his throat suddenly dry. What the fuck was he supposed to say? How did people just do this?

“Hey.” The boy replies, cocking his head and gesturing towards the car with his free hand. “Are you here for me?”

“Umm, yeah.”

“Cool, Cool.” The boy nods and springs up from the wall, bending down to grab a black backpack by his feet and hurries over to the car. 

“Look,” Armie starts as the boy opens the door and puts his backpack on the floor. “I’ve never done this before. I, uh, don’t really know….”

The boy gives him a strange look for a moment before it melts into a soft smile. Armie feels his heart leap into his throat. 

“It’s alright man. We all gotta start somewhere. Can I get in?”

“Yea sure.” 

The boy slides into the seat, slamming the door closed and Armie feels slightly calmer about the whole thing. It was surprisingly...painless. Efficient. Like going through a drive thru but for sex, which is a fucked up thing to think but it’s exactly what it feels like. It helps that this prostitute seems oddly pragmatic about the whole thing. To the point. Armie supposes anyone would feel that way if you went off with strange men on a daily basis. It becomes rote. 

Anyways, it helps to calm his nerves a bit.

“So this is your first time?” The boy asks, fidgeting in his seat and contorting his legs to fit around the back pack at his feet. Armies car is a two seat sports car and there’s not much room in the footwells. 

“Uh yeah sort of…”

“So like I’m your first?” His eyebrows waggle behind his sunglasses as he buckles his seatbelt. 

Armie can feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck. “Umm well, yea.”

The boy laughs, and leans back into the seat, drumming his fingers on top of his knees. Armie is struck with how goofy his laugh sounds—rapid fire and almost tinged with a wheeze. “Well I am thrilled to pop your cherry!”

Armie has absolutely no idea how to respond to that, and everything that does come to mind feels wildly inappropriate, so he simply keeps his mouth shut and drives. The boy doesn’t seem to mind the silence though, alternating between looking at something on his phone and out the passenger window and Armie makes it onto the highway before the silence gets to be too much and he has to say something. 

“I’m Armie by the way.”

“Oh right,” The boy whips off his sunglasses and clips them to the front of his shirt. “Hi, yea I’m Timmy.”

Armie looks over to see Timmy smiling at him, beautiful green eyes scanning his face, and all the nerves that had settled in his stomach come roaring back. This boy is a fucking angel. His face should be on one of those billboards they’d passed on Sunset, advertising high priced perfume or something. How was someone so beautiful out on the street doing….this. The thought turns his stomach and to quell the growing guilt he opens his mouth again. 

”So, uhh, how was your day?”

Timmy blinks, as if he hasn’t been expecting to be asked that, and the idea that Timmy doesn’t experience such things as common courtesy in his line of work absolutely guts Armie. Well, he promises he will make this a very nice experience for him, if that’s the least he can do. 

“Uhhh it was ok. I guess. A bit soul crushing but that’s how it is sometimes.”

Armie wants to scream. He wants to throw his car into park right here on the highway and lean over, take that angelic face in his hands and tell him he is beautiful and doesn’t deserve to be treated like shit. He wants to whisk him away from all of this like some sort of white knight, and the idea he’s having such strong feelings about someone he’s just met—a prostitute no less—is seriously fucking with his head.

Timmy shrugs. “Well you know, it’s the business. Hollywood man.” He rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah.” Armie nods as if he has any idea and he feels ridiculous doing so. He opens his mouth to ask a follow up question but Timmy cuts him off. 

“So ok, I wasn’t gonna say anything but man this car is something else. I don’t think I’ve ever been in one this nice before.” He giggles, this time high and sweet, as he runs his hand over the plush leather seat, and it’s music to Armie’s ears.

“Really?”

“Yea. Definitely nothing as nice as this. I mean it must be a little inconvenient not having a back seat and all…”

Armie is confused. What does having a backseat have to do with anything? He gives a noncommittal “hmm” and wonders if he has sex in a lot of cars or something. Guys on lunch breaks or who can’t go home because they are married. Shit like that. 

“I mean what do you do if you pick up more than one?”

Armie sputters, the car swerving slightly. Timmy doesn’t seem to notice though, and when Armie looks over at him, he’s looking at him openly, head cocked to the side in genuine interest. 

“More….than…..one…..” Armie trails off. The thought makes his palms begin to sweat on the steering wheel.  
“I, uhh, I am not that advanced.”

Timmy giggles. “Ah, well give it time. Soon you will be hauling lots of people.” He reaches out and ever so lightly taps Armie on the shoulder. It’s a little pat of encouragement, nothing really, but it’s the first time they’ve touched and it sends a bolt of electricity through Armie’s whole body. For a moment it’s as if his entire system has gone offline and he’s only brought back to reality by Timmy's voice, still talking, having no idea of the effect he’s had on him. 

“What’s a guy like you doing this for anyways?“

“A guy like me?”

“Yea. I mean….” Timmy gestures around the car as if that explains it all, but it just makes Armie more confused. He decides to be honest anyways.

“Ah well, I’ve been going through a bit of a rough patch lately and….well you know….”

Timmy immediately makes a sound that’s a mix between a sigh and a groan and it’s unintentionally sexy as hell. Armie grips the wheel so hard his knuckles turn white, cause if Timmy makes that sound again he going to pull over and pounce on him. 

“Ohhhhh trust me I know all about that.”

Armie blinks. “You do?”

“Yep.”

“You’re not,” He gulps. “In demand?”

Timmy snorts and shifts in his seat. “Ah, no. I wish I was. Apparently guys like me are a “dime a dozen”.” He makes quotation marks with his fingers and shakes his head, clearly annoyed. 

“Surely that can’t be true….” Armie scoffs, the idea of it utterly ridiculous to him. How could someone who looks like that ever be considered run of the mill? 

“Nah man, it’s ok. It’s Hollywood.” Another shrug. “There’s always another pretty face around the corner. Not that I’m calling myself pretty or anything, just that it’s been said to me too many times to count.”

“But you are incredibly pretty!” Armie argues, the words tumbling out of his mouth without even thinking. They hang there in the air between them in an awkward silence for a few moments before Timmy shyly replies “thanks” and turns away. Armie can’t be sure, but he thinks he even sees him blush. 

Stupid or not, he plows on anyways. Making Timmy blush may be his new favorite thing. “It’s just hard to believe anyone would turn you down….”

“Yea, well, it’s a grind what can I say. A real meat market. But you gotta do what you gotta do to make it….”

“I guess so.”

“So you were saying you were going through some shit?”

“Oh right.” Armie isn’t sure he wants to get into it, after all tonight was about relieving his stress, not adding to it, but he feels like he can be honest with Timmy. It’s refreshing and honestly a little scary “Well I had a really bad break up a few months ago and it really fucked me up. I don’t usually do things like this but I thought, it’s time to move on it’s time for something…..different….”

“Needed a change of pace?”

“You could say that.”

Timmy shifts again and Armie can feel him staring at him. He keeps his eyes resolutely on the road. This was all getting unexpectedly deep. 

“Yea, nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong with switching it up and all that. Sometimes you just need a change. Great for the mental state. Cause you sure as hell don’t need the money.” He laughed. 

Once again, Armie wasn’t sure how to respond. Luckily Timmy had no such problem. 

“Sorry to bring up the money thing again. God, my Mom would be so horrified if she knew I was talking about money. So tacky Timmy, she would say. But i’m from the Midwest, you know, and I’ve never been able to get over the sort of casual extravagance on display out here. Like this car…..I’ve only ever seen one of these in magazines…it really is amazing…”

Timmy begins petting the leather again and Armie is mesmerized at the ministrations his delicate fingers make. He can’t help but think that discussing money would the last thing his mom should be horrified about. 

“.....but one day you’re barely scraping by, eating ramen for a week straight and the next day you’re being taken to dinner at that Wolfgang Puck place and it’s like woah where am I….”

Armie realizes that he has totally zoned out while watching Timmy’s long, delicate fingers out of the corner of his eye, and now has no idea what he is talking about. He’d gladly let Timmy ramble on forever—his voice is oddly soothing—but this topic of conversation has made him remember one delicate matter he had completely forgotten. 

“Money, right. Look I know we didn’t discuss payment but…”

Timmy waves him off. “Oh that’s all settled. I mean that’s what the app is for…”

“But I will make sure you’re well compensated…”

There’s a beat between when they’ve both uttered their last words and when the full impact of what they’ve both said hits them and they slowly make eye contact, each clearly confused. 

“Wait. What?”

“You’re going to pay me?”

“The app? What app? There’s an app for this sort of thing?” Armie chokes out, a bit scandalized. Hook up apps were one thing, this was….well it sounded illegal. 

Timmy lifts up his phone and shakes it a little, punctuating his words. “Uh, yea? The Uber app? I know you’re new to this and everything but you probably should be familiar with it. I already paid and everything using the app. It included the tip too.” He pauses and then cocks his head. “Why did you think you had to pay me?”

The world violently shifts on its axis as Armie feels the reality of the situation slam into him like one of the roundhouse kicks from his trainer. He’s never been so completely at a loss for words and despite the fact he’s driving, he’s pretty sure everything goes blank for a few seconds. It’s a god damn miracle they don’t crash. 

He picked up a poor kid on the street thinking he was a prostitute. And he’s not. Jesus fuck Hammer, what in the hell?!? 

“Uber. You think I’m....an Uber driver?!?” Are the first words out of his mouth, and admittedly not the best words to start with as a look of panic immediately crosses Timmy’s face. 

“Wait. Are you saying you’re not my Uber driver?!” Timmy's voice goes up an octave and his eyes grow comically large. 

“No I’m not your Uber driver!” Armie snaps, his voice totally out of control and growing louder with each syllable. He feels as if he’s left his body and is hovering somewhere above himself, laughing at the dumbass he’s become. “What kind of Uber driver drives an Aston Martin?!?”

Timmy is now just as hysterical as him and his voice matches Armie’s in sheer loud desperation. “I don’t know?!? That’s why I brought it up at first! That’s why I said you clearly didn’t need the money! What kind of person pretends to be an Uber driver and picks up strangers?!? Am I gonna end up cut up into tiny pieces in your freezer?!?”

“I didn’t pretend to be anyone! You got in my car!”

“You rolled up to me and started talking!! I asked if you were there for me and you said yes!! What was I supposed to think?!?”

“That I was there to...pick you up…” Armie blows out a stream of air in defeat. This was a total shit show. Leave it to Armie Hammer to fuck something up as easy as getting laid. 

“So you were pretending to be my driver then?!?”

Armie scrubs a hand across his face, grimacing, before snapping and slamming his hand on the steering wheel, more out of frustration for his own stupidity than anything else. 

“No! I thought you were a prostitute!”

If this had been a TV show or a film, that would have been the exact moment the loud screech of a needle being yanked off a record player would have sounded and everyone would have stopped and slowly turned in Armie’s direction, aghast. Instead it was just silence and one person doing the staring. Armies cheeks threaten to burn right off his face in shame. 

“Wh….what?!?”

“Oh God,” Armie moans, and what follows is a stream of word vomit that is so spectacular he could have won an Academy Award. “Oh God. I am so embarrassed. No, humiliated. I am so so sorry. I’ve never….I have never done this before and I….it’s just been so long since….and I was so…..fuck….and my stupid stupid friend Nick suggested I should do this and that it would be good for me and alleviate my stress cause you see I’ve been working so much lately and part of it is because it’s god damn hard to run your own business and part of it was getting distance from my bad break up but I should have….fuck….I never should have listened to Nick. Stupid! Stupid! I’m so sorry I will pull over at this next exit and turn around and take you back and…….”

When Armie pauses to take a long overdue breath he is met with laughter. He looks over to see Timmy cracking up, his beautiful green eyes scrunched up, mouth hanging wide open and revealing all his pearly whites. 

“You think this is funny?!”

Timmy wipes at his eyes. “Yeah. It’s fucking hilarious! You thought I was a prostitute! You’re right, you clearly haven’t done this before.” He doubles over and continues laughing.

“Laugh it up.” Armie quips, no real venom in his words. He’s still jittery, completely humiliated and surely red as a tomato, but he’s already feeling a little bit better. 

“So when you say you were in a rough patch you mean…”

“Yeah…”

“Sexually…”

“Oh God can we not….”

“I thought you just, you know, sounded like you wanted a new job. A new hustle or something.” 

“You really thought a guy driving an Aston Martin Vanquish would up and drive for Uber just for the hell of it?”

Timmy shrugged and looked a bit sheepish but his eyes were full of mirth. “I did think it was a little weird, but shit happens you know?”

“Shit does indeed happen.” Armie laughs. “I’m living proof of that!”

Timmy looks absolutely gleeful and actually claps his hands together. “Sorry but this is amazing. My friends are gonna die when I tell them this.”

Armie supposes the least he can do—besides crawl into a large dark hole and never return—is to let Timmy enjoy the hell out of this. It was definitely a once in a lifetime, entertain all your friends at parties for years to come, type of story. 

“Ok, so if you’re not a you know what then…”

“I’m an actor.” Timmy giggles. “Out of work at the moment, but you were picking me up from another horrible audition.”

“Oh, shit. Ok fuck…..yeah.” Armie shakes his head, all the things Timmy has said about the biz and Hollywood and just another pretty face suddenly click into place.

“But I can see how this happened. I mean, I didn’t exactly specify and I just sort of spoke to you like you already knew I was an actor. I guess I’m so used to everyone else I know being a struggling something that I just…..well all I’m saying is I think I can see how both of the things we said easily could have been misconstrued.”

Armie looks over at him and feels his heart clench. The setting sun is backlighting Timmy in golden red rays, surrounding his hair like a halo, and the sight takes his breath away. Hot as hell, a sweetheart and totally willing to forgive a massively boneheaded faux pas? This guy is a keeper. 

“Let’s start over again, can we?” Armie blurts out, feeling stupidly giddy like a teenager. 

Timmy smiles. “I’d like that.”

“Hi, I am Armie Hammer, I am 32 and run my own inport- export company, I have a dog named Archie, a giant asshole best pal named Nick, a house in Malibu, a love of boxing, greasy Chinese food, badly dubbed Kung Fu movies and am a giant moron.” He sticks out his right hand to shake.

Timmy bites his lip and eyes the hand for a moment as if he’s debating shaking it, before he takes it and gives it a long, lingering shake. His hand is so tiny in Armie’s and the contrast does something funny to Armie’s gut. 

“Hi, I am Timothee Chalamet. I am 22, originally from Indiana, yes my name is french and incredibly pretentious, I am an aspiring actor, focus on the word aspiring, but I’m currently employed at the Cheesecake Factory and as that annoying guy who passes out flyers outside of clubs. I live in a small as fuck apartment with my best friend Gio, I love hip hop, anime, classic broadway musicals and In and Out burger double doubles.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

There is silence again, but this time it’s pleasant, like a warm blanket settling on your lap. Armie realizes that he’s still driving, and he’s bypassed all the nearest exits to his own house by now. Timmy notices this at the same time and pipes up. 

“So, we are really nowhere near where I live…I think we are half to San Diego by now…”

“Shit, I’m sorry. Let me pull off at this next exit and we can go back.”

“No worries. I’m enjoying this whole picked up on a street corner by a man in a car that costs almost a quarter of a million dollars.”

“Yea. A creepy man who picked you up wanting to pay to have sex with you.” Armie grimaces. 

“Nah. It’s kind of Pretty Woman if you think about it….”

Armie laughs. Timmy is being an incredibly good sport about the whole thing. 

“Also, someone who looks like you wouldn’t need to pay me to have sex with you….” Timmy says cheekily, his eyes mischievous and staring right at Armie, not the slightest bit of embarrassment present. “Just sayin”

Armie grips the wheel tight, unsure of how to respond. His heart speeds up. Did he just? He did, didn’t he?

“Look, we could stew in awkwardness all the way back to Weho where you then drop me off at my house, never to see me again, or you could take me somewhere for dinner, since I’m starving, and we can see where the night goes. Unless that’s too much effort for you. You know, a real date and not just….” Timmy coughs, hiding a smirk into his hand. 

A matching smirk spreads across Armie’s face. “Wait. Are you the one propositioning me now?!”. 

“Maybe. I mean......have you looked at yourself?”

“I….”

Timmy busts out laughing, and for a moment Armie is scared that it’s all a terrible joke—payback for all of this-before he feels a warm weight settle on his upper thigh and looks down to see Timmy’s hand resting there. His eyes whip up to Timmy’s face and sees one perfect dark eyebrow raise in invitation. 

“So? Do we see where the night takes us?

“Yes.” Armie breathes out, and Timmy’s hand slides slowly upward, indecently close to Armie’s crotch for someone who isn’t—repeat isn’t—a prostitute. Fuck the easy road. Armie wants all in. 

“Cool, Cool.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things continue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to just be ONE second chapter but it was getting huge. LOL I still have more to go. So I split it. Also I might not have time to write anything for a day or two so I wanted to get something up while I got the juices flowing. I have no idea where I am going with this, well I have a vague idea, but hey I am just thrilled anyone gives a shit. Yay lol

The last time Timmy had been out on a date was four months ago, some friend of a friend that vaguely knew his roommate, and while it had seemed promising at first--she was beautiful and a dead ringer for Ariana Grande--it had quickly devolved into a nightmare. She had been unbearably rude to the waitress, a cardinal sin in Timmy’s book since he was currently slaving away in the food service industry, had talked about herself nonstop, and had the worst case of halitosis he’d ever encountered. Even worse than the one guy back home who made out with Timmy in high school and had a nasty chewing tobacco habit. It was so bad that after the first kiss, one that had caught him off guard and almost made him gag, he’d ducked and swerved her attempt at a second kiss, tossed her his pack of gum and booked it the hell out of there.

So Timmy is definitely no stranger to awkward situations, nor is he a stranger to romantic slumps. Which is why he can’t find it in his heart to be the least bit angry about the situation with Armie.

It also didn’t hurt that from the first moment Timmy had climbed into his car, he’d felt a powerful and instant connection with the man. He’d written it off at first, telling himself it was just a reaction to the gorgeous God of a man behind the wheel, but as their drive went on, he kept feeling it. A pull. A tug. A palpable something fizzing between them. He’d felt instant attraction--instant lust--before, but never anything like this. 

Which is why he couldn’t have just let him go. He couldn't have made him turn around, take him home to his shitty apartment and write the whole thing off as one of those wacky LA stories he called home and told his parents about, the type that made them say “Oh Gosh Timothee that sort of thing would never happen here! You sure you still wanna live out there? You can come home any time you know that dont you?” And it was wacky, it was borderline insanity, especially the part where Timmy suggested dinner and a heavy implication of more if things went well.

I mean, he’d already been mistaken for a prostitute, so there was no shame in being bold.

So that’s how Timmy finds himself at the Chateau Marmont, the place he’s only read about in magazines and on Just Jared, in a private room, the type celebrities frequented after a late night of partying or schmoozing at premieres, cozied up side by side in a booth and enjoying a few after dinner drinks.

If someone had told Timmy that his day would start out with the worst shift ever, where one customer demanded he run down all the cheesecakes they served but in alphabetical order only, progress to the worst audition ever, where he’s said “these deals are craaaaazy!’ about a hundred million times, in a sombrero, and still didn't book the job, and end up here by the end of it, with an honest to god millionaire by his side, he would have laughed in their face.

He still wants to laugh, he thinks, as he sips his rum and coke and watches the candlelight dance across Armie’s handsome features. But only because he feels like he’s in a romcom or something.

A really good romcom. One with snappy dialogue and realistic character motivations, and hopefully a very very hot sex scene later.

“...and then the casting guy said he didn’t believe my commitment in selling quality mattresses at affordable prices and yelled next!” Timmy says, tipping the remnants of his glass into his mouth and giggling as he recounts the soul crushing lows of being an aspiring actor.

“Oh man, that’s brutal.” Armie leans closer, speaking directly into his ear which hardly seems necessary since the room is pretty quiet, only the low chatter of other private couples and the clinking of classes fill the air. Still the move has its desired effect, and Timmy practically swoons when he feels the hot breath on his skin. “I definitely would have given you the job. Tell you what, if my company ever decides to do television commercials, you’re in.”

“I have no clue what import-exporting is, but I could sell the fuck out of it. You have a deal.” Timmy smirks, feeling something hot simmering under his skin, the product of the increasing flirtation and several drinks. Things are zooming along nicely, everything clicking and firing on all cylinders, and even though he knows this is moving a bit faster than it usually does for him, he’s all in. He’s been all in since he placed his hand on Armie’s thigh inside his car, hoping to God he was making the right decision all the while going “oh god oh god oh god” inside his head.

The way Armie is looking at him though, like Timmy is a puppy holding a t-bone steak on Christmas morning, lets him know he’s made the right fucking decision. He’s ready to get the hell out of here and go, well, somewhere else, and when he sees the cocktail waitress move their way he subtly shakes his head to let her know they wouldn’t be needing anything more from her tonight. 

“It’s a fucking crime no one is hiring you.” Armie continues, still speaking low into his ear. “I’m sure you’re an amazing actor. I mean, ok I’ve never seen you act before but you certainly look the part. Why haven’t you been hired for one of those teenage vampire dramas or something? Do they still make those? I mean...fuck you're gorgeous. Ah, sorry….”

“Did you just apologize for calling me gorgeous?”

Timmy watches as Armie’s cheeks turn the same color as the plush velvet interiors all around them. It’s amazing how he can go from a giant tree of a man, intimidating as hell, to something so soft and easily flustered within the span of a few seconds.

“I was worried I was, ah, coming on a bit too strong there…”

“Armie, you picked me up with the intention of paying me for sex. I then basically said hey buy me dinner and you will get lucky. I think we are both past the point of coming on too strong, don’t you think?”

Armie leans back and lets out a hearty laugh, the kind that makes the type of people in a place like this look at you like you’re from another planet, and Timmy pokes him with his foot. “Wanna get out of here?”

Something primal flashes then in Armie’s eyes, turning his bright blue eyes a shade darker, and it almost makes Timmy forget his own fucking name. Christ, he’s sexy.

“You sure?”

“Oh I’m definitely sure.”

“Ever been to a beach house in Malibu?”

“Does staring up at the houses, wondering who lives there as your roommate uses his metal detector on the public portion of the beach, count?”

Armie laughs and sets his empty rocks glass on the table, fishing for his keys in his pocket. 

“No.”

“Ok then, nah. Never been. Let’s bounce. You ok to drive?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Armie stands abruptly and holds his hand out for Timmy to take. Timmy obliges and let’s Armie pull him to his feet. The room sways a bit and he’s glad they decided to quit now while he was pleasantly tipsy and not totally blasted.

“Cause we could, you know, call an Uber….”

Armie stops and gives him a look, raising one eyebrow and just looming there for a moment before ducking his head and shaking it, concealing the biggest grin. “Come on smart ass, let get the hell out of here…”

“Cool. Cool.”

Timmy follows him out the door like it's the most natural thing in the world. The thought strikes him that he would gladly follow Armie anywhere, which is a weird thing to feel about someone you’ve only just met, but it’s not an unpleasant thought at all.

The drive to Armie’s place is quiet, both of them content to listen to the radio and steal glances at each other like nervous teenagers. Every once in a while Timmy reaches over and places a hand on Armies thigh, giving a gentle squeeze as if to reassure him. Of what, he has no idea, it’s not as if the man is some blushing virgin, but it feels like the most natural thing in the world. Timmy likes this, the easy intimacy that’s come so fast to them.

They pull up to the house and Timmy feels his jaw go slack—house is an understatement. The place is a three story mansion, a couple million dollars worth of real estate at least, and is flanked by other similarly impressive mansions. Armie parks the car and leads him up through a door in the garage and Timmy finds that the inside is just as impressive as the striking facade. The first level sports a beautifully appointed great room with a modern fireplace that takes up half of the far wall, while the one in the back is nothing but panels of floor to ceiling windows that span the length of the entire room, all overlooking a massive patio that leads to the beach. It’s absolutely breathtaking, and Timmy takes a few moments to just absorb it all. He does a little twirl that makes him feel quite silly, taking in the leather couches, the baby grand in the corner, fresh flowers on all the tables and a stack of Architectural Digests piled on a white desk that looks like it’s carved out of ivory. 

“Holy fuck. I really should have taken off my shoes shouldn’t I?” He gulps, suddenly conscious of the fact that his grubby boots are standing on top of a plush rug that surely costs more than his parents house.

“You’re fine. It’s a house not a museum.” Armie laughs and dumps his keys on the marble countertop of the large kitchen that’s attached to the great room. 

“Sure looks like it though. This place is insane! Like something out of a tv show or a film or…. Oh shit.”

“What?”

“There I go again.” Timmy shakes his head, feeling the creeping embarrassment. He never had issues with money, or feeling inferior to people who had it or anything like that, but it was never easy getting used to seeing how the other half lived. LA was a total mind fuck sometimes. “Just ignore me. I’m embarrassing myself is all. Your house is beautiful.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s cute.”

“Its cute? What’s cute?”

“You. Look I’ve been surrounded by money all my life, and by people who have money, fancy houses, nice cars.” He smiles knowingly at that one, and Timmy blushes, remembering how geeked out he’d been over his car. “I’ve always considered myself to be incredibly fortunate but not everyone who is as fortunate as me tends to think that way. You’d be surprised at how many people take this kind of stuff for granted. I don’t know, I guess it’s nice to see someone who isn’t jaded.”

“Yea no I could never take this for granted. Not in a million years.” Timmy moves closer to the windows, and he can hear the low rumble of the crashing surf. It’s pitch black out now, the sky clear and the moon bright, and he can just make out where the end of the beach meets the ocean, highlighted in silver wisps. Armie comes up behind him, not flush to his back, but close enough to feel like the beginning of something, and Timmy can hear him breathing, sense he wants to say something, maybe suggest he show him the rest of the house, but the silence is broken by a phone chiming.

Timmy looks over his shoulder and Armie is smirking down at his phone.

“It’s Nick.” Armie laughs, his fingers typing out something furiously, and he starts laughing to himself.

“Nick?”

“You know, my friend I mentioned who...umm…. suggested I….” 

“Oh right.” Timmy smirks right back and Armie keeps typing away, looking rather satisfied with himself, which piques Timmy’s interest. Before he can ask, Armie reads his mind.

“I’m texting him back, telling him I decided to use his advice and pick up a man and brought him home.”

Timmy snorts. “Did you include the part where I wasn’t a hooker?”

“Nah, I mean I will, I just want to see his reaction first.”

“You’re evil.” Timmy giggles and shakes his head at the ridiculous man in front of him. He turns his back on him then, leaving him to his texting, and continues to stare out into the darkness. The porch is huge, dotted with lounge chairs, and in the far corner he thinks he can make out a covered hot tub. He has a sudden image of himself on the same patio, during the day, surrounded by friends and family as Armie stands over a grill and flips burger in a silly apron, and he knows he shouldn’t get that far ahead of himself, but it just feels right. He feels like he belongs here.

“You want a drink or anything? I’ve got some whiskey, wine, something non alcoholic?” Armie asks, and Timmy turns around and watches him walk into the kitchen. He shoves his phone into his pants pocket and begins rummaging around in a cabinet.

“Nah, no thanks I’m good…”

“You know you can go outside if you want? If you flick any of those latches down the panels will all slide open.”

“Really?’

“Yep. Go on, I’ll join you in a minute.”

Timmy fiddles with the brass latch for a second before it snaps downwards and he’s able to slide a whole panel to the right. He’s met with a gust of salty ocean air and takes a deep inhale. Despite living in LA for a few years now, he rarely goes to the beach. One doesn’t have much time to do that when you’re hustling to get by and scrambling to auditions. He pads across the porch and down the stairs until he touches the sand. The beach is considered private property until a few feet away from the water, where the public portion kicks in, but there’s no one around now that it’s night time. The sand still retains the warmth from the day and he wiggles his toes in deep and sighs at how good it feels. The waves are the perfect white noise to fall asleep to and Timmy wants to camp out in this spot and never leave.

“Hey you.” 

Timmy doesn’t hear Armie approach but when he hears his voice he spins around and launches himself straight at him. He’s tipsy and happy and just needs to touch. Timmy throws his arms around Armie’s neck and just holds on, pressing his face into his shoulder and inhaling.

Armie is caught off guard and laughs, but his strong hands immediately wrap around his lower back and hold on tight.

“Sorry,” Timmy mutters and pulls back, looking right up into Armie’s face and smiling. “I just really wanted to do that.”

“Mmm, I’m glad you did.” A devilish smile spreads across Armie’s face and he begins to lean in, his eyes flicking down to Timmy’s lips before fluttering closed.

“So what part of me screamed prostitute exactly?”

Armie’s eyes snap open and he stills. “Oh God, can we not?”

“I need to know. Humor me. What made you think I was….on the make?”

Armie laughs. “On the make?”

“I don’t know hooker terms!”

“I don’t know,” Armie sighs, and he looks over Timmy’s shoulder, out towards the ocean. His forehead scrunches into several horizontal lines. “I think...it was your vibe. Yeah, Your vibe.”

“My vibe?”

“Yeah.”

“I had a prostitute vibe? What the fuck is that?”

Armie shakes his head, frustrated, and then looks back at Timmy. “A vibe of….sex. A sexy vibe. I’m not really explaining this well am I?”

Timmy laughs and sways a bit in his arms playfully, causing Armie to hold him even tighter. “Nope, but keep going anyways.”

“It’s just that you were incredibly sexy just standing there. It was oozing out of you and you were there right where Nick said you would be...well not you specifically but…. I don’t know. Maybe I just saw you and wanted you and that was enough to convince me that I could have you. Shit. Pretty stupid isn’t it? Not my smartest moment.”

“Assuming I was a prostitute? No, not the smartest move. But I assumed you were my driver and that wasn’t my brightest move so…” Timmy shrugs and presses closer. “Then again, if dumb moves end up with me on the beach in a hot guys arms then strap one of those dunce caps on my head or something…”

Armie smiles, and he’s looking at Timmy so intensely there’s a little vertical furrow between his brows, and Timmy wants to kiss it, and also wants to kiss Armie period, but he has to ask one more question.

“Why does a guy like you have to pay for it?”

“A guy like me?”

“Handsome, sweet, successful….”

“I don’t normally. How do I say this without sounding like a total douchebag? Uhh, let’s just say it was a moment of weakness.”

“A moment of weakness, eh?” Timmy presses up on the balls of his feet and feels the sand shift. “I know all about moments of weakness.” He breathes out before surging up to capture Armie’s lips in his. It’s new and familiar all at the same time. It makes his heart beat fast in his chest like he’s doing something crazy like skydiving, but also makes him feel utterly content, like he’d just curled up with his favorite film. Armie’s lips are plump, his breath hot and smelling faintly of whiskey, and when he opens his mouth just slightly and Timmy snakes his tongue inside, he makes the most delicious noise that sends sparks all the way down to Timmy’s toes.

As Timmy’s body melts into his, and Armie grips his shirt and holds on for dear life, he’s positive he never wants to leave this place. Ever.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so this chapter is a RIDE folks. Strap in. I upped the rating as well. Still only a vague idea where I am even going but I sure have a lot of words regardless lol. Potentially triggering thing in this chapter, though I didn't want to tag stuff and kind of give away anything. If you're super sensitive about stuff just, including language, be careful. Nothing too bad though lol. I am just being careful. There are also two like Pretty Woman inspired things in this chapter, one small one large(actually no THREE inspired things hahaah). Let me know if you know what they are hahah

Things have started to get a bit hot and heavy out on the sand—Timmy can safely say they are in full make out like horny teenagers mode--and he’s just about to break away, suggest he finally show him the bedroom or something equally cheesy, when the sound of a phone ringing stops the action before he can. 

Armie pulls back, his face flushed, his lips pink and swollen, and digs in his pocket, looking as if he’s coming out of a haze. 

“Is that Nick again?” Timmy asks, a bit annoyed that he’s gotten dropped like a hot potato, but smug enough to enjoy the fact that Armie looks wrecked and his movements are clumsy as he checks the display. 

“No, he never responded. Sorry, sorry I wouldn’t normally….break away like that for my phone but….that’s my assistant. She never calls me after hours unless it’s an emergency.” 

Timmy takes a step backwards at that, disengaging fully from Armie’s hold, but he doesn’t seem to notice; he answers the phone and gives Timmy an apologetic look, holding up a finger to say “one second please” and Timmy just shrugs and watches a myriad of emotions play out across Armies face. He looks serious and then tense and finally he rolls his eyes and covers the phone with his free hand.

“Do you mind if we?” He tips his head back towards the house. “I need to take this, it shouldn’t take very long, but Asia needs the quarterly projections.”

Timmy has no idea what that means, but he nods and follows Armie back into the house. 

“Yes, they were sent the info via a PDF on Friday, so I don’t understand why….” Armie’s voice is stern, but incredibly powerful. It’s a side of Armie he hasn’t seen yet--commanding, in charge--and it’s a huge turn on. This isn’t Armie, it’s Mr. Hammer, CEO. Timmy wonders if he’s like that in the bedroom as well. Would he be just as dominant? Timmy imagines him being swept up in those big arms and thrown over his shoulder, or even dragged to the bedroom by his hair like a caveman. Does Armie want to give….or take? Timmy’s not really sure what his preference is, and Timmy’s pretty versatile so it doesn’t matter, but he’s pretty sure he wants Armie to fuck him. He’s never wanted a man to fuck him more. He wants to feel small and helpless in his arms. Timmy wants to be ravished, as silly as it sounds.

“I’m going to take this in the office. I will be right back. Make yourself comfortable.” Armie leans in and pecks Timmy like they have been doing this for years. Timmy grabs Armie’s tie; it’s loosened and hanging there limply, and pulls it taut for a second. He makes eye contact with Armie before letting go, letting the silky material slip through his fingers. 

“Don’t be long”

Armie bites his lip, looking absolutely pained to leave and Timmy swears he sees him hesitate for a second before he turns, and it makes Timmy smile triumphantly. 

There’s a side room with a semi opaque sliding door that Armie disappears into, closing the door with a soft snick, and Timmy assumes that’s the office. He can see the faint shadow of Armie moving around but can’t hear him. Now alone, he takes the time to snoop around like any good house guest would. He combs through the bookshelves that line the walls. There’s Tolstoy and Steinbeck and paperbacks from Oprah’s Book Club which he didn’t even know was a thing anymore. There’s a coffee table book on exhibits at the Louvre, and Timmy wonders if he should break out his fluent french tonight. Guys and girls always loved that. Outside of books there were DVD boxed sets of documentaries, including one on boxing, lots of Monty Python, and judging by the sheer amount of Kung Fu films, he hadn’t been lying when he professed his love for it.

Timmy runs his fingers across the tops of the matching sofas, and their cream colored leather feels as buttery soft as it looks, and then stops to smell the flowers on the side tables. They are fresh, like someone comes daily just to bring them, which isn’t out of the question when you’re this rich, and they smell lovely. Gardenias? He’s not sure.

After making his way around the space, looking for anything even slightly salacious and finding nothing, he goes over to the piano in the corner. It’s a Steinway baby grand, pristine, looking like no one has ever so much as touched it. Timmy has played the piano since he was seven, though he hated the lessons and gave up on them right before high school, right when things like drama club and cute girls and boys started sucking up most of his attention.

He rarely plays anymore.

It’s a skill that still comes back to him easily though, and he starts tickling the ivories before thinking better of it, not wanting to disrupt the call in the other room. Instead, he plants one sand covered foot on top of the bench, leverages himself for balance, and then hops up on top of the piano, taking a seat and letting his feet dangle there, trying not to touch the keys.

He’s not sure why he does it, but he has an overwhelming urge to, and so far all his other overwhelming urges tonight are working out well, so he doesn’t overthink it. The sliding door--window panel or whatever you call it--is still open and he’s hit with a breeze that gently ruffles his hair. He leans back on his hands and exhales, closes his eyes and lets it wash all over him. The sound of waves lapping in the distance is the only thing that can be heard and it’s like being in a meditative state. Timmy sits there for what feels like ages, before he hears a faint creak and opens his eyes to see Armie in the doorway, staring at him. They lock eyes.

Timmy cocks his head to the side, until his ear almost meets his shoulder, and looks up through his lashes. He knows what this type of look does to men. He knows it drives them crazy. There is a mixture of innocent and vixen that he doesn’t bring out when he dates girls. He likes being able to access the more feminine side of himself sometimes.

“Done with your call?”

“Yes.” Armie is to the point, his voice gravelly and low, and there is a hunger in his eyes that would almost be frightening if it didn't turn him on so much. 

“Umm, thats nice.” Timmy tilts his head back again, closes his eyes and simply groans as he makes a big show out of rolling his head, stretching out his neck. He inhales and arches his back before exhaling and letting his legs fall ever so slightly open. When Timmy opens his eyes after his ridiculous little display, he sees Armie walking towards him, and before he can say anything, Armie is shoving the piano bench away with his knee and sliding in between Timmy’s legs, using a carefully placed hand on each of his inner thighs to place them exactly where Armie wants them to be.

“My mom saw that I picked up on how to play chopsticks just from watching the movie Big and decided to put me in lessons. I still hate chopsticks because of it.” Timmy says, staring at Armie’s neck, right where the five o’clock stubble has begun darkening there. He sits up straight and lightly wraps his arms around Armie’s neck, still staring at the stubble. He wants to drag his tongue up and down it, feel the scratchy roughness.

“I took them too. I was terrible at it, but my mom said all boys like me had to play an instrument.” Armie lifts his hand and gently takes a hold of Timmy’s chin, directing his gaze to his. “You have pianists fingers. I couldn't stop staring at them in the car.”

“I noticed.”

“I bet you did.” Armie smiles. “I don't really wanna talk about the piano anymore, do you?”

Timmy shakes his head and slides closer, pressing his thighs around Armie’s hips and letting his heels dig slightly into the back of Armie’s legs.

“I don’t really wanna talk at all.”

That’s all it takes for Armie to lean in to kiss him, but Timmy throws his head back instead, exposing his neck, and Armie runs his nose down the length of it before sucking at the dip where it meets his clavicle. Timmy groans as Armie’s hands trail down his back and grip his ass, sliding him across the top of the piano as Armie steps more to the side, so that the keys are no longer in the way and he can bring them flush together. They are not exactly lined up in the most optimal way for this, for any old fashioned grinding, but it doesn't matter. Timmy feels himself growing hard just from this alone, the tension, the touches, the sure to be hickey on his neck, and from the bulge in Armie’s pants, it's having the same effect on him too.

“You don’t know how bad I want you.” Armie speaks into his skin as he kisses back up his neck, alternating between little licks and nibbles, and it’s driving Timmy crazy. If their pelvises had lined up, he would be writhing against him right now, so he settles for interlocking his feet behind Armie, pressing chest to chest and demonstrating how much he wants both of them to be as close as possible. 

Their lips meet at last, and it's not graceful or careful or even tinged with the awkwardness of two people who are still getting to know one another, but desperate and wild, borderline messy. Timmy opens his mouth to moan and Armie’s tongue sneaks in, finding his and entwining with it, and Timmy’s cock goes from half to full mast.

“Need to get this…” Timmy pulls back, breathless, and begins tugging at Armie’s tie, shirt, jacket, whatever he can fist his hands in. Armie makes a noise and chases his lips, but begins to shimmy out of his jacket. There’s a sound as it falls to the floor, and Timmy uses whatever is left of his functioning brain cells to undo the tie and then start working on Armie’s shirt. Armie is pawing at Timmy's henley at the same time, and the whole thing is an uncoordinated mess of limbs for a few moments.

Eventually they are both shirtless, panting, and unable to pry apart from each others lips to actually move. Maybe he will just fuck me right here on top of the piano, Timmy thinks, and the thought excites him. A bead of sweat trickles down his back and into the crease of his ass, and Armie’s hands chase it as he kneads Timmy’s ass, over and under his jeans.

“Need to get you out of this…” Armie murmurs, and Timmy agrees, about to come completely untouched if they don't either slow down or get to the main event.

“Maybe it's time for the full tour of the house now....show me the bedroom…”Timmy purrs and starts working on Armie’s fly, pulling it down notch by notch. Armie agrees, lapping at Timmy’s neck, and it’s time to get this show on the road.

“I want you to fuck me….”

This seems to snap Armie out of his hormone induced haze and he stills, pulls back and looks troubled. Timmy silently begins to freak out. What did he say? What did he do?

“Unless you want me to...I mean it doesn't matter either way and I guess we never talked about it but….”

“No, it's not that.” Armie laughs, but he’s clearly pissed. “Fuck. Condoms. I don’t have any.”

“You're kidding me?!”

“No. Shit.”

“You picked up a prostitute without any condoms?” Timmy deadpans. He’s hella annoyed, especially now he’s all worked up, but he’s trying not to bust out laughing.

“I was going to get them and then after everything happened I forgot. Do you….”

“No man, I’m fresh off a four months long streak of nothing.”

“There is a drug store, not too far away. Twenty minutes, thirty if there's traffic. Unless you don’t…”

“Go! Go! I will wait, I will wait.” Timmy laughs, surprised at the urgency in his voice. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise. Get lube too for chrissakes!”

Armie laughs, still looking mortified. “Condoms, lube. Got it. You are….the best.” He smiles, plants a quick kiss to his cheek, before dashing shirtless up the stairs. When he comes down, his pants are re-zipped and he’s donning a red hoodie. “Be back in a minute.”

Since Timmy has already taken the time to snoop on the downstairs floor, he uses Armie’s second absence to check out the second and third floors. The second has three bedrooms, all ripped straight from an interior design magazine, two bathrooms and a gigantic master suite with a walk in closet Timmy could get lost in, and one of those rain showers that could fit ten people, and he imagines Armie pressing him up to the glass during a shower, taking him from behind.

Maybe for the second round, he smirks, running his fingers along the down comforter on the King sized bed. It’s larger than usual, most likely custom made. The third floor has some sort of entertainment room with a massive flat screen and a pool table and another giant deck filled with sun chairs. 

After Timmy takes a quick peek around, he goes back downstairs and turns Armie’s stereo on. The ipod attached to the speakers says “Prince’s Greatest Hits” and Timmy starts dancing and singing along, trying to burn off some of the pent up energy he’s feeling, or else as soon as Armie returns, he’s going to shoot off like a rocket.

“I just want your extra time and your….kisssssss” He sings, voice struggling to hit the notes and hips swaying seductively, when he hears the door slam. He looks at the time--that was faster than he thought.

“Hey I…” Timmy freezes when he turns to see that the man standing in the kitchen is not Armie. He not as tall as Armie, but just as broad, with dark hair, olive skin, and is holding a six pack of Bud Light. All of his senses are on alert now, and he’s painfully aware he’s standing shirtless, hair mussed, and fights the urge to fold his arms across his chest and conceal whatever he can.

“Oh, who are you?” The man blurts out and he looks just as confused as Timmy feels. He’s wearing what looks to be an expensive, albeit a little rumpled, suit with a loosened tie at the collar. He looks like a banker who just got done with his work day vs some sort of dangerous intruder, so Timmy feels a bit more at ease. 

“I’m Timmy.”

“And where is Armie?”

“He ran to the store. He’s coming back. Should be back anytime now really. We were out together and then came back here and….”

Something flashes across the mans face just then, a realization of some sort, and he scans up and down Timmy’s body before he sets the six pack on the kitchen counter and smiles. It’s a nice smile, nice straight white teeth, but it leaves Timmy feeling cold. Uneasy, and he can’t pinpoint why. He flips off the stereo and the room falls silent.

“I’m Nick, by the way.”

Timmy nods. That’s who he was suspecting it was, but it’s nice to have it confirmed. He’s not exactly sure what to say.

“It’s nice to meet you. Uh, Armie mentioned you a few times.”

Nick’s smile grows. “Oh, I bet he did. So, Armie brought you home eh? You’re…” He wiggles his fingers in his direction and then snaps them, waiting for Timmy to answer.

“I’m Timmy.” He repeats his name again, slower this time.

“Riiiiight.” 

The way Nick drags it out sounds vaguely ominous and Timmy wonders if the man is drunk. Going by the six pack, it’s a decent guess.

Usually Timmy is fine with small talk, but everything about this situation feels wrong, and he’s not sure what to say to this man. “Ha, yeah. I know he texted you earlier. I didn’t know you would be coming over though…”

“Mm, yep. I was out and I wasn’t planning on it but,” He shrugs. “I didn’t think you would still be here.”

Timmy shrugs. What was he supposed to say? Of course I’m still here because we are totally going to bang but now you’re here and it’s awkward? Could you please leave?

“Yeah. Well, you know.” The answer is met with silence, so Timmy starts babbling. “It’s a pretty funny story though, you gotta admit.”

“Funny?”

“You don’t think?”

“I’m too drunk to think. Where did Armie go again?”

Timmy feels like he's with his grandma, the one who needs everything repeated to her every ten minutes. “Right down the street. He went to the store. He will be back in about twenty or thirty minutes.”

“Sounds like enough time.” Nick replies, and shrugs out of his jacket. He throws it over an arm chair and starts unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling them up.

Timmy takes a step back. He’s not sure what’s happening here, but he knows he doesn’t like it.  
“Enough time for what?”

“For me to pay for your services?”

“Services?” Timmy feels lost, like he’s reading a book that’s missing a few pages. He knows for sure that this man is drunk; his words keep getting more and more slurred, and some of his movements are off. Nick practically trips over the edge of the rug as he walks towards him.

“Yeah, how much to suck my dick? Ten? Twenty? You’re real pretty so I am guessing closer towards fifty. Fucking LA, even the hookers want more...inflation man...”

Suddenly it all makes sense. It had been creeping in the back of his mind all this time, but he thought Armie had told him the full story. Then he remembers, Armie was going to tell Nick the full story after he’d texted back. Nick had never texted back. Shit. Armie never got the chance to tell him it was all one big misunderstanding. “Woah, woah. I’m not...I don’t….

“Look, I’ve had a shit day and I’m horny as hell so don’t play coy. We both know what you are. Now you want my money or not? Or do boys like you suddenly have standards?” Nick’s lips curl like he’s smelling something rank, and Timmy wants to wipe the smirk right off his face.

“I’m not a prostitute. Look I know what Armie told you but…”

“Yeah, he told me you were a fucking prostitute. So you gonna suck my dick or not?” He laughs and it a harsh and ugly sound. Timmy is quickly losing all the patience he’s been trying to hold on to. When he speaks his voice is firm.

“You need to stop. You’re drunk. I’m not a prostitute. I was on a date with Armie and…”

“A date? That’s what you call it now?” Nick laughs and comes even closer. He’s shaking his head and cracking up and Timmy backs up until he’s up against the wall. Despite being scared, Timmy snaps.

“Fuck you! Seriously, even if I was a prostitute, I wouldn’t suck you! Not for one hundred, two hundred….five hundred! A thousand! Not for all the money in the world!” This is clearly the worst thing to say to a rich, drunk douchebag and Nick’s face turns a lovely shade of purple before he explodes in a fit of rage.

“Are you fucking kidding me!? Who the fuck do you think you are!? You think you can talk to me like that!? I could buy and sell you, you prick! I make millions of dollars a year! I drive a Porsche! I don't get on my knees for scraps. So why don’t you just shut up and…..”

By now Nick is right up in Timmy’s face, and up close his eyes are glazed over and he reeks of booze, it practically seeping out of every pore. It only takes a second for his hands to be on Timmy, and they are in some sort of awkward wrestling position, with Nick’s hands so tight on Timmy’s arms that red splotches are already starting to form. Timmy is struggling to fight against the man’s strength, and neither hear the door slam, or the footsteps, but are broken apart by Nick being knocked backwards by a direct blow to the face.

“What the fuck is going on!?!” Armie roars as he towers over Nick on the floor, cradling his face, and Timmy shrinks back into the corner. “Why were your hands on him?! Why were you fucking touching him!? Did he hurt you?” He asks Timmy, his eyes wild. Timmy shakes his head no. “Are you alright?’ Timmy nods his head yes.

Nick alternates between speaking words and making grunts of pain. “You told me you brought a hooker home!”

“He’s not a hooker!” 

Nick starts to pull himself upwards and there’s a tiny trickle of blood seeping out of his nostril. “That’s what you said bro! That’s what you texted me!”

“Don’t bro me, Nick. I know what I said but...fuck.” Armie is pacing now, looking like a wild animal in a cage, and he’s rubbing his eyes roughly like he just wants to block it all out. “I wanted to see your reaction and you never responded back and then I got distracted…”

“Distracted..” Nick repeats, his voice dripping with sexual innuendo and openly mocking him.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Armie roars again, and he makes every bit of his 6 feet 5 inches known. “He’s an actor Nick, an actor, and I was the one that fucked up by mistaking him for something else. Something he’s not. I like him though, we went out….”

At that Timmy remembers he’s still in the room, not watching some epic confrontation on TV or something, and snaps to. Armie is looking at him, opening his mouth to speak but Timmy is cold and feeling exposed and all he wants to do is put on his shirt and get the fuck out of there. This has all been too much. Way, too fucking much. From the intensity of what he’s been feeling, and how quickly it had come on, to shit that feels like it’s been ripped out of someone else’s life. Someone else’s way more drama filled life. Normally he would be home right now, watching Netflix and debating a late night run to Taco Bell. This was all way too much.

Like a skittish cat he darts across the room to where his shirt is still lying in a crumpled heap on the ground and starts pulling it on, his fingers trembling as he tries to dig his phone out of his pocket.

“What are you doing?” Armie pops up by his side and looks stricken. He’s speaking gently, like one would to a child. Timmy hates it.

“Calling for an Uber. A real one this time.” Timmy replies, and just an hour ago a response like that would have been an inside joke that made both of them laugh, but now it’s just awkward. “Maybe this was….maybe this was all a big mistake. Maybe all of what happened should have been a warning sign.” 

Armie looks panicked. “Please Timmy, please don’t go. I am so sorry. Are you...are you ok? Are you sure he didn’t hurt you?” He reaches out with both hands, like he wants to cradle Timmy’s face, and Timmy wants him to do that, he wants Armie to touch him, he knows it’s not his fault, but he can’t help but flinch. Armie drops his hands and looks like he just got struck. “I know I fucked this up. I know I keep fucking up, and this time it wasn’t so cute, but I am so sorry Timmy. Let me deal with him but...please stay.”

There’s a rustle from across the room and Nick is now attempting to stand, but failing. “Hey, I’m sorry man.” He slurs. “I thought you were a….you know. I’m just super drunk and... 

“Oh, you’re sorry now?” Armie says, his voice cold. “You’re only sorry for assaulting someone if they’re not a prostitute? What if he was? You’d think you could just do whatever you want to them? Get out. Now. You’re disgusting. And give me your keys, cause your drunk ass is walking home.”

Timmy watches as Nick gives him his keys and is unceremoniously shoved down the hall and out the front door. He hears a muffled exchange, another argument coming from outside, and he uses this time to flip through his apps and bring up Uber. There is a car not even five minutes away, and he grabs it. He makes sure he has everything he came here with, going to Armie’s car to grab his backpack before scurrying down the drive. He’ll wait by the curb.

He’s not even halfway to the street when Armie comes up behind him. 

“Timmy, please. Please don’t let this end this way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually write sexy shit lol. Hopefully the first taste of it wasn't too terrible. Also, sorry about Nick being like that but....thems the breaks he cant be the good guy in every story can he? lol


End file.
